


i'm not trying to start a fire with this flame

by holtzbian



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbian/pseuds/holtzbian
Summary: Erin moves on. Holtzmann doesn't.





	i'm not trying to start a fire with this flame

_It's not that I don't care about the love you have_  
_It's not that I don't want to see you smile_  
_But there's no way that he can feel the same_  
_Cause when I think of you, my mind goes wild_

 

The days are long. The mornings and nights are, at least. Holtzmann doesn't sleep much. She never really did; there was always too much going on in her mind for her to get more than five hours of rest a night, but she's barely been scraping three. It shows. It shows when she trudges into the firehouse half an hour after everyone else, instead of her usual two hours early, and heads for the coffee pot instead of the lab. It shows when she lingers behind on busts, last to arrive on the scene, hanging in the wings instead of taking centre stage. It shows when she talks them through her latest inventions without her usual vigour, no longer spouting information like there's water boiling inside her head and she needs to let the steam out. It's all gone cold.

In the mornings, he drops her off at the firehouse. Holtzmann tries not to look, but she always does. He kisses her goodbye, and Erin smiles, watches him from the doorway until he gets into his car. In the evenings, he picks her up, and Erin runs out of the door like there's a ghost chasing her. Holtzmann kind of wishes there was a ghost chasing her, because then she'd get to save her. That's the worst part- Erin doesn't need saving from this.

In between, when it's just them- Holtzmann working in her lab, Erin at her desk across the room, light banter filling the space in the middle- it's like nothing has changed. It's like before, when it was all stolen glances and flirtation and _maybe someday_ s. They still look at each other the same way, still finish each other's sentences, still fill in the gaps in each other's ideas like they're psychically connected. Sometimes Holtzmann forgets- she doesn't try to, because nothing good could come from that, but it happens regardless. It's nearly impossible not to, when Erin still smiles at her like she hung the stars, when she still laughs like everything she says is the greatest thing she's ever heard, when she still watches her play with fire to make sure she doesn't get burned. Holtzmann tries not to think about how the fire that Erin lights inside her is the only one she could ever lose control of.

It's been too long. In the beginning, she thought about telling her. Maybe she'd break up with him. Maybe it's not too late. But now, it is: she knows from the second toothbrush next to Erin's bathroom sink. She wishes she hadn't seen it, so she could still pretend. She pretends a lot, these days. Pretends it's not too late, pretends she likes him, pretends nothing is wrong when she walks back into Erin's living room to resume movie night with her friends.

Abby and Patty know. It's so obvious. _So obvious_ to everyone but Erin. They tell her it's too late, too. She's gotta move on. This isn't healthy. She's gotta sleep.

But how can she sleep, knowing that just a few blocks over, Erin is curled up asleep in the arms of the wrong someone? She swallows this thought hard, washed down with the liquor her friends present to her to try to take her mind off it. It's not that he's the wrong someone. Maybe he's the right someone. Maybe it's her that's wrong.

But then the next morning comes, and ends, and she forgets again. Erin is looking at her, and smiling at her, and touching her arm and her back as they talk and acting like there's something. Holtzmann knows she's crazy, she knows. She has crazy ideas and she bounces off the walls and she says too much too fast and she's a lot. But she's not crazy like _this_.

 

"I don't think I'm imagining it," Holtzmann says quietly, her voice raspy with hurt.

"What?" Erin responds, her eyes wide.

The day is nearly over, and it's gotten too much. The something has been hanging heavier in the air today, weighing down hard on her shoulders every time their hands _accidentally_ touch as they flip through a book together, every time Erin laughs at her jokes a little longer that the rest of her _friends_ , every time Erin _innocently_ touches her when she didn't need to at all.

Holtzmann clears her throat, looking down and starting to pace slowly back and forth behind her desk.

"The way you are... with him... and with me... It's the same."

She stops and looks up, leaning palms-down on the surface.

"It's different, but it's the same."

Erin swallows hard, not meeting her eyes.

"I-I don't know what you mean, Holtz."

"I think you do."

Erin exhales, looking up at her. She can tell by the hard look in her eyes that this is it- she's not running from this conversation. She feels the something, too, even if she can't accept it. Won't.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to admit it, Erin."

Erin runs her hand through her hair, shaking her head.

"Admit what? That I got tired of waiting and moved on?"

Holtzmann falls silent, frozen in place. The enormity of the moment settles in, and she feels her bones go cold. Maybe it was all her fault. _You're the wrong someone. You are._

"You didn't have to wait,"

She says quietly, softer.

"You could've said something. Done something."

"So could _you_."

Holtzmann bites down hard on her lip.

"I was fucking terrified, Erin. What if I'd read it all wrong and I screwed up the only family I've ever had?" Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, and she looks away again.

"I was too. You think I didn't have the same fears? Do you think _this_ is better?"

"Do _you_ think this is better?" She snaps back, not missing a beat.

"Are you happier? With him?"

Erin freezes.

"I don't know." She whispers after a moment, barely audible.

Holtzmann walks slowly around until she's in front of her.

"If you tell me-" Her voice cracks and she looks down for a moment, breathing deeply.

"If you tell me you're happier, that it's never going to happen, that I should stop pining- I will. But you need to stop acting like there's- I need you to tell me that it's nothing. And mean it."

Erin looks at her for a long time. She feels suspended in space, and the only thing her eyes can focus on is Holtzmann. She's floating away, and her only tether to reality is blue eyes, fingerless gloves, the smell of gasoline and coconut shampoo. This is what keeps her here; she can't walk away from Holtzmann, from _that_ side of their relationship, because it's something that happens without her permission. It's a silent truth of the universe, like they're made of fragments of the same exploded star that are desperately trying to find their way back together. It feels inevitable, and she's tired of running away. There's no use in fighting gravity. Her atoms aren't strong enough.

Her hand finds Holtzmann's, and she touches her fingers lightly, running her hand up her arm, over her shoulder, before settling on her neck, fingers lightly touching her jaw. She breathes deeply as her thumb delicately brushes over her lips, and their eyes meet. Holtzmann covers Erin's hand with her own, taking the smallest of steps closer.

Erin is the one to close the gap, pressing their lips together in the most feather-light touch. She feels Holtzmann's hand tighten around hers and she kisses her harder, pulls her closer. Holtzmann's arm wraps around her waist and she marvels at the way her hand fits perfectly at the small of her back. The word 'first' rings through Erin's head. Their first kiss. It feels like _the_ first kiss; the first kiss that's ever lived up to what she thought kissing should be when she read about it in romance novels or heard about it on the radio when she was young. Other firsts run through her mind; the first time she felt like she belonged, the first time she thought touching fire might be fun and not just dangerous, the first time she saw sunshine somewhere other than in the sky. All right here, in this building. This room. Holtzmann.

The word 'last' breaks through her peripherals, and she pulls away.

"I have to go." She says under her breath, against soft lips.

"What?" Holtzmann whispers, the hurt still lingering in her throat.

"I have to break up with him. I'm- I'm not this person."

Holtzmann smiles softly, raising her hand to stroke Erin's hair softly.

"Okay," She says, stepping slowly out of the embrace, still holding on to her hand.

Erin laces their fingers together.

"It's not nothing," Erin promises.

"I know."

 

They're all out of obstacles. They'd managed to crash into every piece of debris that floated into their atmosphere, and had the scars to show for it. But now, as Erin runs back into the firehouse half an hour later, and Holtzmann hops over a desk and down the pole to run into her arms, pulling her into a soul-crushing, life-affirming kiss, the sky is clear. There's nothing but this. There will never be anything but _this_. The silent something ended up being everything.  

 

_I have to be honest with you baby_  
_Tell me if I'm wrong, and this is crazy_  
_But I got you this rose and I need to know_  
_Will you let it die or let it grow?_

**Author's Note:**

> Just banged this out in an hour as an outlet for my overwhelming stress. Hope you liked it. xo
> 
> (Lyrics from Roses - Shawn Mendes.)


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